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Authors: Morwen Navarre
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Conn the night before. “Conn wasn’t all that eager to learn, so you can’t shoulder all the blame. But I think he might be ready now. I’ll try to teach him, if he’ll let me.”
Mother shook his head. “You have your path to follow, and you’ll have Ghost to care for. Conn and I will muddle along. I suspect he’ll do more to help when it’s just us.”
As if his name invoked him, the door to Mother’s bedroom opened. Conn came out, dark shadows under his eyes. He wore an older cloth tunic and leather breeches to Gerry’s great surprise. He got himself a bowl of porridge before he sat at the table. Mother poured hot tea into Conn’s cup and offered him the honey, but Conn waved it off.
“You still look tired,” Mother said. “You could have slept longer. We’re not hunting today.”
Conn looked up with those shadowed eyes. “I thought I’d clean out the old coop. Maybe we can trade for a couple of hens, so we can have fresh eggs.” He looked at Gerry. “I can try. I don’t have to be a total ass all the time.”
Gerry felt his cheeks growing hot, and he knew they would be turning red. “I was wrong last night, Conn. I’m sorry. Some of what I said wasn’t my damned business to begin with, and the rest was harsher than you deserved.”
Conn’s cheeks were just as red. He lowered his eyes, staring a hole in his porridge. “Someone needed to say it.”
For a moment, Gerry thought that Conn would say more, but Conn seemed to change his mind, taking a spoonful of porridge instead.
“I don’t know what’s passed between you two, but I’ll trust that one of you will tell me if I need to know.” Mother looked at both of the younger men, and Conn’s cheeks darkened even more. “That bad?”
“We needed to clear the air, and we did,” Gerry said. “We’re good now.” He looked over at Conn, but the younger man kept his head down, stirring the porridge a bit to cool it.
“The coop is a fine idea, Conn.” Mother stood to take his cup and bowl to the sideboard. “It’s going to take a bit to clean it out and make any repairs, but perhaps by the next quarter-moon we can go and trade for some hens.”
Gerry stood as well. “I’ll give you a hand when I get back from the Witch’s house, at least with the repairs, all right? I won’t be able to hunt for a few days yet, I think, but I can drive a nail just fine.” He patted Conn’s shoulder, feeling the younger man flinch. “We’re good, Conn.” Now all he had to do was believe that himself.
***
Ghost sniffed, the smell of moldy earth and decay making him wrinkle his nose. He turned his head to get away from the odor, the pillow rough under his cheek. He did not know what the Witch was doing, but it stank, and Ghost reached up to rub his nose.
At least Ghost tried to reach up, but his hand was caught on something and he could not reach his nose. He opened his eyes and his heart began to race when he saw nothing in front of him but darkness. The smell was worse as he tried to turn his head again, and he realized that his head was covered with a cloth sack.
The memory of the sharp sting and of the cloth dropping over his head made Ghost hitch a breath as he tested his hands again. They were tied, along with his ankles, and the rope was rough on his wrists. He fought down the urge to yell. Whoever had done this was not going to appreciate his screams, and he was helpless to defend himself. Right now, his only real hope was to remain awake, not be rendered unconscious by whatever means had been used once already. Ghost could not help the shiver of apprehension that ran through him, though.
That shiver was enough to draw the notice of whomever it was that had tied Ghost up. He felt a large hand close over his arm. He was turned over abruptly, his shoulder making contact with something hard and rough that dug into him. He gasped a little at the pain, which was a mistake. The dirt he inhaled as it was shaken loose from the
Mother shook his head. “You have your path to follow, and you’ll have Ghost to care for. Conn and I will muddle along. I suspect he’ll do more to help when it’s just us.”
As if his name invoked him, the door to Mother’s bedroom opened. Conn came out, dark shadows under his eyes. He wore an older cloth tunic and leather breeches to Gerry’s great surprise. He got himself a bowl of porridge before he sat at the table. Mother poured hot tea into Conn’s cup and offered him the honey, but Conn waved it off.
“You still look tired,” Mother said. “You could have slept longer. We’re not hunting today.”
Conn looked up with those shadowed eyes. “I thought I’d clean out the old coop. Maybe we can trade for a couple of hens, so we can have fresh eggs.” He looked at Gerry. “I can try. I don’t have to be a total ass all the time.”
Gerry felt his cheeks growing hot, and he knew they would be turning red. “I was wrong last night, Conn. I’m sorry. Some of what I said wasn’t my damned business to begin with, and the rest was harsher than you deserved.”
Conn’s cheeks were just as red. He lowered his eyes, staring a hole in his porridge. “Someone needed to say it.”
For a moment, Gerry thought that Conn would say more, but Conn seemed to change his mind, taking a spoonful of porridge instead.
“I don’t know what’s passed between you two, but I’ll trust that one of you will tell me if I need to know.” Mother looked at both of the younger men, and Conn’s cheeks darkened even more. “That bad?”
“We needed to clear the air, and we did,” Gerry said. “We’re good now.” He looked over at Conn, but the younger man kept his head down, stirring the porridge a bit to cool it.
“The coop is a fine idea, Conn.” Mother stood to take his cup and bowl to the sideboard. “It’s going to take a bit to clean it out and make any repairs, but perhaps by the next quarter-moon we can go and trade for some hens.”
Gerry stood as well. “I’ll give you a hand when I get back from the Witch’s house, at least with the repairs, all right? I won’t be able to hunt for a few days yet, I think, but I can drive a nail just fine.” He patted Conn’s shoulder, feeling the younger man flinch. “We’re good, Conn.” Now all he had to do was believe that himself.
***
Ghost sniffed, the smell of moldy earth and decay making him wrinkle his nose. He turned his head to get away from the odor, the pillow rough under his cheek. He did not know what the Witch was doing, but it stank, and Ghost reached up to rub his nose.
At least Ghost tried to reach up, but his hand was caught on something and he could not reach his nose. He opened his eyes and his heart began to race when he saw nothing in front of him but darkness. The smell was worse as he tried to turn his head again, and he realized that his head was covered with a cloth sack.
The memory of the sharp sting and of the cloth dropping over his head made Ghost hitch a breath as he tested his hands again. They were tied, along with his ankles, and the rope was rough on his wrists. He fought down the urge to yell. Whoever had done this was not going to appreciate his screams, and he was helpless to defend himself. Right now, his only real hope was to remain awake, not be rendered unconscious by whatever means had been used once already. Ghost could not help the shiver of apprehension that ran through him, though.
That shiver was enough to draw the notice of whomever it was that had tied Ghost up. He felt a large hand close over his arm. He was turned over abruptly, his shoulder making contact with something hard and rough that dug into him. He gasped a little at the pain, which was a mistake. The dirt he inhaled as it was shaken loose from the
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